We marched with a great crowd through the centre of Cork today for Trans+ Pride Cork. A trans flag big enough to need a dozen pairs of hands was carried down the street, past the shops on Grand Parade, St. Patrick Street, Winthrop Street and then up Oliver Plunkett Street to Grand Parade again. Pink…

Ballycotton harbour late on a summer evening is one of those places that is rewarding to visit. The working boats had all come in, Atlantic Chief, Excelsior and Prolific were rafted tight against the wall, hulls bobbing in calm waters. The setting sun cast long, side-on shadows and clouds streaked across the sky.

The nut seller had clearly decided the crowd could wait. Some behind him caught his attention and the crowd passing in front wasn’t buying his roasted nuts.

The Luas reflects the images of people who are waiting to cross the road on O’Connell Street, Dublin a few weeks ago.

The mannequin is spying on you. It’s not just Facebook.

Proving that the recent heatwave is (still) the exception and that it sometimes rains in June in Ireland. It didn’t last long. By the time we came out of Cornucopia the ground was dry and the sun was shining again.

The roses lean out of their black plastic pots like they’re craning for a better view of the customer, and she’s giving them a proper once-over, but what I noticed was the tote bag so floral it could be for sale at the flower stall.

The poster girl gets the beach, the dunes, the perfect light and a 30% discount; the actual shopper gets a footpath, a purple handbag and a too-warm day in the town.

The boardwalk pulled me straight in. Those weathered planks running across the dark volcanic sand towards a sea gone smooth from a long exposure, like the Atlantic had decided to hold its breath for me. Playa de Ajabo at dusk is a different beast to the postcard Tenerife of packed loungers and factor-50. This was…

A wall of glass tilt over your head and you start to feel very small, very corporate and very much in need of a strong coffee. This is the WeWork office in London. Look closely and there’s one warm pendant lamp glowing in a window, a tiny pocket of cosiness in a tower of cold…

The man in the red jacket became my anchor the moment I set up. Henry Street on a sunny day is a river of people. Shoppers, buskers’ audiences, lads cutting across to Gino’s for a cone, and a slow shutter turns all of that into smears of colour and ghostly half-people mid-stride. But he just…

A heron perched on a boat in Kinsale harbour last year. Patient and watching.